


Moonlight

by RogueLioness



Series: Fuckuary 2021 [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, NSFW, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 19:21:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29846283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RogueLioness/pseuds/RogueLioness
Summary: Day 2: Rasha Lavellan x SolasForest sex
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Lavellan/Solas (Dragon Age)
Series: Fuckuary 2021 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194248
Kudos: 5





	Moonlight

She’s sitting on a rock, pants rolled up to the knees, feet splashing lazily in the water. The Planasene is quiet tonight, the atmosphere still but not oppressively so, and every predator in the woods has retreated for fear of encountering a far more dangerous one. Rasha hums to herself, very deliberately ignoring him, sulking because he’s teased her all evening with both casual and deliberate touches - brushing her arm with his, touching his mouth to the tip of her ear, running his fingers down her neck - but done nothing more, though he knows she desires it.

She is meticulous, and organized, but so very impatient.

Solas watches the frown form between her brows, watches her drag her lip between her plush lips, grins to himself as she shivers under the silver light of the full moon.

Finally - really, it had taken her too long - she lifts her head, narrowed eyes meeting his own. “Don’t give me that look,” she grumbles, but there’s an undercurrent of something dark, something baser, beneath those words.

“What look?” he feigns ignorance, shifting away from the tree he’s been leaning against towards her.

“ _That_ one,” she jabs a finger in his direction. “You _know_ what I’m talking about, Solas. Stop it.”

“I assure you I have no idea what you refer to,” he stands next to her, his form towering over hers, and when he offers her a hand, she takes it with an arched brow, allowing him to guide her to her feet.

Rasha wraps her arms around his neck, drawing him down so their noses are pressed together. “You’re incorrigible,” she huffs against his mouth, brushes her lips against his - a kiss, a tease, then a dare.

His hands move to her waist, his grip heavy, fingers digging into the soft flesh there - a familiar feel, one that he will never grow tired of. “And you,” he nips her lip, soothes the sting with his tongue, smiling at the soft gasp that she’ll never admit to making, “are irresistible.”

“Oh?” she lets him guide her to the canopy where they’ve set up camp. The ground is soft beneath their feet, soft, verdant grass mingling with the sweet scent of night-blooming flowers. “And do you intend to do something about it?” Her eyes gleam with mischief and want.

“Yes.” His answer is simply stated, but it has her inhaling sharply, and he can feel, through their shared bond, the way her need flares. Solas wraps a hand around the back of her neck, thumb stroking gently along her jaw, watching her watch him. She’s beautiful, russet hair framing her face and flowing down her back, lashes fluttering as she sways ever-so-slightly towards him. He coaxes her chin up with his free hand, traces the shape of her lips before pressing his to them, remembering all over again the softness, the give of them, swallowing the sigh she makes before letting his tongue dip into the warm cavern of her mouth, allows the taste of her to flood him once more.

He did not lie when he said she was irresistible. She tastes of the world, and everything it offers - life and death, pleasure and pain, joy and misery. She is the sweet ache of a love bite, the delicious agony of being parted from a lover, the relieved guilt of selfishness. 

The last one, he knows all too well.

He breaks away from her, hushes softly when she whines in complaint, drags his lips along the curve of her jaw to that spot behind her ear he knows will make her shudder. He sets his teeth to it, lightly, then harder, his grip on her tightening to keep her still. Rasha calls out to him, for him, but his focus is elsewhere - on her graceful neck, where he can feel the rapid, intoxicating pulse of her veins, and he thinks he could easily spend eternity with his mouth pressed to the spot - and down, further still, to the hollow of her throat, where he sucks a bruise like he has so many times before.

Solas’ hands trail beneath the t-shirt she’s wearing, fingers splayed out on her hip, thumbs stroking the flare of her waist. He can sense her impatience, and chuckles at it; slides one hand up, soft skin so distracting, till he reaches the underside of her breasts. He plants lazy, open-mouthed kisses along the slope of her shoulder, one for every freckle he finds, as his thumb flicks her nipple to hardness, then continues to torment her by rubbing against it through her bra, back and forth, back and forth, his touch light, gentle, almost insubstantial.

Rasha whimpers. The sound has his cock surging to hardness, brings out an ache in his groin. “Solas,” she moans, a plea. Her need ratchets his own, but he forces it down. He intends to undo her slowly, thoroughly, and he will not be swayed in that.

“Patience,” he whispers against her clavicle, then traces the length of it with the tip of his tongue. He lifts the hem of her t-shirt, and she eagerly allows him to take it off her entirely; then, before he can stop her, she’s unbuttoned her pants and stepped out of them as well. “Impatient,” he chides, his voice a low growl, and he watches through half-hooded eyes as she shivers at the sound of it. 

“You’re overdressed,” she whines, fingers tangling in his shirt, twisting the fabric in her need, “take it off,” she tugs at it. Solas lets out a soft, dark laugh as he obliges, hissing as she strokes him through his trousers. She’s got her lower lip tucked between pearly white teeth, eyes glittering with desire and heat, moonlight lending her skin an ethereal glow. She could be a goddess, he thinks, one to kneel before and worship entirely, and he intends to do just that. 

He stills her teasing hand, pulls it away from him, places it against her hip instead. “Keep it there,” he warns, then shifts to his knees. “May I?” the question is asked with a wolfish grin, and she huffs fondly as she nods. He slowly rolls down the piece of fabric that separates him from the place he’s now ravenous for, places it carefully on the side. He lets his hands glide up the outside of her thighs, cups her buttocks and gives them a gentle squeeze, then slides them down again. Soft, gentle strokes, teasing, taunting, getting closer to where she’s dripping with need, but never quite touching the way she wants, the way she’s trying to get him to. 

“Tease,” she gasps, her fingers twitching, but she keeps them where he’s ordered her to.

“Yes,” he agrees, lifting a leg and placing it over his shoulder. Solas presses a kiss to the crease of her knee, then moves his way up the length of her legs, nipping the soft skin of her inner thigh, leaving marks that will heal by the morning. Still, the sight of them blooming purple-red is beautiful, and he can tell, by the way her breath hitches, that she enjoys it too.

When he reaches her core, she’s soaked, her slick coating her folds and making them glisten in the silver light. Solas touches the very tip of his tongue to her clit and circles the nub - once has her gasping, twice has her moaning, and the third time - it’s a good thing he’s holding her because her legs get shaky. He pauses, pulls away, lets his breath wash over her, lets the anticipation build up till she squirms - and then returns, wrapping his lips around her clit and sucking so gently, fingers dipping down and stroking her folds - every touch fleeting, fluttering, a sharp contrast to the way his tongue lashes across her bud, unable to keep the smugness from rising in his chest at the sounds she’s making - breathy mewls and hitched gasps, all musical, all perfect.

And then he sinks a finger into her - she’s so _warm,_ her walls so greedy around his digit it makes him moan, makes her shudder and sway against him - and then he introduces a second finger and that has her crying out and grabbing his head, nails digging into his scalp, and he knows her so well, knows how close she is, knows by the way her hips jerk and rock that she’s close to peaking. On a different day he would have more mercy, would let her gush over his fingers and mouth, would slowly draw out her pleasure till she blinks at him with fuck-drunk eyes.

But today is not such a day.

Instead, he drags his fingers down her walls as he pulls them out, laughing wickedly at the wail she lets loose, at the way she arches towards him in desperation. When he pulls her down, she offers no resistance, and in a few minutes he has her sprawled out on the lush grass, the both of them bare as the day they were born, his form stretched out over hers. His cock is so hard and heavy, he can feel it throbbing against her thigh - and Rasha, ever the minx, grins up at him and reaches down to stroke him, her nimble, lithe fingers stroking from root to tip, squeezing just the way she knows he likes.

Solas growls at her. She smirks. 

He captures her traitorous hand, and then the other, dragging them over her head and pinning them there before pulling her leg over his forearm. He slides his length along her folds, hissing at the sensation, coating himself liberally in her slick, watching her tilt her head back and her eyes flutter shut. Jaw clenched, he pushes down on her captured hands - a warning - before lining his cock up with her entrance, unable to help the groan as his tip enters the tight, wet heat of her. He stills, tormenting both himself and her, his grip on her thigh keeping her from rolling her hips and sheathing him.

“Look at me, _vhenan_ ,” he demands, and when she opens heavy-lidded eyes to his gaze, he hilts to the root in a single, rough motion, the action causing Rasha to keen into the night. Her walls spasm and clench around him, and he knows he cannot be gentle, knows he cannot last long, not when he’s within the perfection of her cunt. 

“Touch yourself,” Solas commands, as he drags her hips into his lap, and starts to fuck into her with low, scooping motions that he knows will hit the sweet spot on the front of her walls - Rasha’s hand is desperately flicking her clit, the other pinching and twisting a nipple, and she calls out his name, over and over, the sound of it filling his head, surrounding them, echoing in the forest.

The tension runs down his spine, a desperate heaviness in his balls. Her pleasure is his, and his is hers, the two feeding into each other and causing them to rise higher, and higher, then higher still, till he can no longer tell where he ends and she begins. “Solas-” she gasps out, her eyes still on his, and he cannot resist leaning into her and capturing her lips, wanting to know the taste of her pleasure as she peaks around his cock - and she does, and the taste of it is _exquisite_ , as it’s always been, as it always will be, and he swallows every syllable greedily. Her core, clenched around him, squeezing, spasming, has him shuddering, his hips losing all rhythm as he thrusts erratically, desperately into her, his vision whiting out with the force of his pleasure as he spends into her with a guttural groan. 

Neither speaks - neither seems capable of speech. Instead, Solas gathers his breath, gazing down at Rasha, at the red flush across her cheeks and down her neck, spilling out so prettily across her chest. He can smell their sweat, their spend, shivers at the way she’s running a soothing hand up and down his back. When he comes to himself, Rasha is smiling softly at him, eyes lit up with so much love it has his no-longer-beating heart contracts. “ _Ar lath ma_ ,” she whispers, rubbing her nose against his. 

Solas smiles. A sense of peace washes over him, the likes of which he had craved for so long - and which is now his. “ _Ar lath ma, vhenan’ara_.”


End file.
